Handle Your Own Shit

NATHAN'S POV.

I stood in my office, staring at the document on my desk. It was a list of questions that the head of public relations thought I might be asked in the upcoming press conference. I had spent hours preparing my answers, but there was still a nagging sense of uncertainty. Would I be able to handle the barrage of questions? Would I say the right thing? I checked my phone again, hoping for a message from her. But the screen remained blank, and the silence was deafening.

"Where is he?" I rolled my eyes at the sound of a familiar voice. Just a second later, Lisa and my mum entered the office with her assistant not too far behind.

Lisa excused herself after telling me she tried to announce their presence.

"Why aren't you in the suit I picked out? What's with the regular black tie for goodness sake." My mum spoke with frustration laced in her tone, was for sure tired of me and just maybe if I was happy I might have joked about tone and facial expression.

I didn't pay her questio